old things

I am someone who can't let go of the past
old name tags I hang on to
Back home there's a suitcase of memorbilias
hand-made cards with my name misspelled
crinkled letters of highschool crushes
I hold on to every one of them
even those signed by names no longer with faces
And then
there's you
sometimes,
I'll find you
nose a little alternated
smile a little crooked
the way you are folded up like old letters
always along the same folds
familiar like origami crane
I tuck you away in a suitcase in my mind
opening to peek when the mood strikes
the moon's too bright or the night too warm
then I look at you
your changing face
and I know this sad truth about myself
I am someone who can't let go of the past.